The Story with a rather Terrible Title
by boss-master
Summary: A story of Boo remembering how he stabbed his father, the court scene, etc. Rated teen for language and a bit of graphic information. It's a story I made for a school assignment. Please review :)


A story that I wrote for my English class based on an assignment called "boo by you".

* * *

_I have found you my dear friend_ was all Arthur could think about. He looked out the window at the two children who passed his house every day and saw that once again they had come to the old but vibrant tree that was located on his property. He took this time to study them; to memorize their appearance. Their emotions were easy to decipher since it was clear that those emotions were written on their faces. Happiness and curiosity were the most easy to see as it was those feelings that were at the very front of their subconscious. Doubt and worry were far from their minds at this time, which made it easy for them to dismiss the so called safety of staying away from the Radley property that the entire neighborhood had ensured by the rumors. The rumors which he knew were completely and utterly idiotic. These were the same rumors whose plot was filled with lies. Arthur had thought time and time again that anyone with half a brain would be able to figure out that these rumors were nothing but garbage, but once again he was proven wrong. For people only believed what they wanted to, and more than half the time the lie seemed to be more believable than the truth. Always the lie made a more interesting tale. The children reached into the tree and took out what he had left them-a pocket watch. It was one of his most prized possessions; one of the last items his father had ever given him. It took him back to a time even worse than now. All of a sudden a memory overwhelmed his mind. Arthur fought to control it. He fell to his knees, and suddenly darkness…

* * *

_Light_, he thought. It came from the window to the right of where he sat. The view one could see outside of it was something that he considered stunning. The first thing he always saw was a huge oak tree on a bright green lawn. In back of it, lay a row of houses. None of those houses were unusually big. Instead they all looked to be rather cozy. The room that he sat in was painted a color known as sunshine yellow. It seemed to take in the sun, and make the room feel warm. The rest of the house was nearly the same color, but seemed to be faded away from years of aging. He lived in a one story house that included a basement. There were three bedrooms, a bathroom, a dining room, a kitchen, and a living room that made up this house. At the moment, Arthur was cutting up some old newspaper and some old photos that he had found. His brother's birthday was coming up, and he was trying to put together a present for him. He had no money left since he had spent it all with his gang, so this was the best he could. The light seemed unnaturally bright today. It seemed to beacon to him and call out his name. He heard footsteps behind him, and a cough. Instinct told him to put the scissors down, but before he could he swung backwards. Suddenly a deathly cry filled the room. Silence surrounded it. Raw, fresh liquid was felt leaking onto his fingertips. He looked down and saw crimson red blood dripping from his fingers and onto the snow white floor. -Drip, drip, drip- was the sound the blood made as it fell and reached its destination. First there was only a single drop of that strange substance, but soon enough it made a puddle. To Arthur, the puddle seemed to be terribly big. He looked behind him and up at the face that seemed to be the center of his troubles. His mind seemed to be in another dimension. He wasn't fully aware of where or even who he was. He also couldn't seem to remember exactly who the face was. He knew that it was familiar; the one at the core of all his memories, but try as he might he could not think of a single name. The face had wrinkles on it. It seemed to have a whitish skin tone to it, and it may have had a more sun touched skin tone in a time not so long ago.

"YOU DAMN BOY! WHAT THE HELL HAVE YOU DONE!" The face screamed at Arthur. Suddenly everything began to rush back to him. Memories forgotten were now regained. The face, how could he have forgotten it? His own father, the man who had raised him, and even though he seemed at times to be harsh, he still acted like a father. Arthur's entire memories seemed to be coming back all at once, starting from when he was a child and could not remember farther, to now. Memories such as eating a simple dinner with roast chicken and vegetables that had once been home grown, but was later bought in the store. Another was of his father whipping him with a large ebony colored belt. The pain had hurt his body in more ways than one, and he had had long, blackish-blue welts from head to toe for the next two weeks. Sometimes he even thought he would have bled but never did he. He now thought of his father and the pain he must have been in. He tried to run but before he could his father grabbed his arm.

"YOU'RE GONNA BE DAMNED AND GONE WHERE YOU DESERVE BEFORE YOU KNOW IT! YOU GONNA TROUBLE STRAIGHT UP FROM THE DEVIL HIMSELF. HELL YOU ALREADY ARE! YOU THE WORSE DAMN MISTAKE THAT EVER WAS IN THIS FAMILY! YOU-" His father continued in this manner for the longest time. With every word, the grip became tighter, and with every word Arthur saw his hand go from pink, to red, to purple, and finally to a dark blue. With the racket his father made, his mother came.

"Jim, what is the devil's name is going on in here." When she saw what had happened, all she could say was "Oh, Good Lord." The blood that had been in a puddle had begun to seep into the cracks of the floorboards. It had begun to spread out and flow downward to the door, which Arthur's mom happened to be in front of. Right at the moment, she stood drenched in the blood of her husband. Her white skin was now scarlet, and he doubted that it would ever wash off. She first looked as if she did not comprehend what had happened. Her face was pale and she looked as though she was in shock. She fell to her knees, staining her dress along the way. Her hands fell to her side. When they had reached the bottom, they touched the ground, making the blood splash. She stayed there only for a few moments, but it seemed as though it had been an eternity. She then brought her hands in front of her face, while the scarlet, thick blood ran down her arms and dripped in huge globs, several at a time. (Drip, drip, drip) The blood had begun to act like a clock, going faster at times but always keeping a rhythmic beat. Suddenly it seemed as though she was coming back to the world around her, and out of a shock-like stage. She looked back at her husband, who at this time was beginning to look like a ghost with the amount of blood that he had lost. Even though it seemed as though the entire process had taken hours, it had only been minutes before when Arthur had made the drastic mistake of swinging the scissors backwards. She then ran out of the room and through the front door. The blood left a trail behind her, making it easy to follow her steps if you chose to.

As she ran, she screamed "THE RADLEY CHILD, THAT RADLEY CHILD, HE-HE-HE STABBED HIS POOR FATHER IN THE LEG! NO-NOT THE GOOD CHI-NATHAN, BUT N-NO I-IT WAS THA-THA-ARTH-BOO! IT WAS BOO! HE'S GONNA KILL US ALL! BOO STA-STABBED HIS POOR FA-" She continued to scream the words, stuttered and slurred together, about Arthur's mistake. His father returned his attention back to Arthur, released his arm, and grabbed his ear. He then dragged Arthur to the front door. "NOW LOOK WHAT YOU'VE DONE TO YOUR POOR MOTHER, YOU GOOD FOR NOTHING PIECE OF CRAP! YOU-"

* * *

"Haven't got a clue do you? Not a clue on how to defend yourself. Accident, ha! If that was an accident, Good Lord what would have happened if you meant it. No, no-swear it on my life, that ain't no accident. Believe me son-" Arthur stopped to listen after that. Try as he might, he couldn't convince anyone that stabbing his father in the leg had purely been by chance. He hadn't been able to convince his mother, father, or brother of this. He thought that maybe his lawyer, the man who would defend him in court, would understand that this was all a mistake, or in other words simply an accident. He thought that at least the that man would try to understand, if not for Arthur's sake, than simply for the sake that it would be easier to find evidence with a clear and unbiased mind. But no, this man simply laughed in Arthur's face, as if it was a dry joke that was only fairly amusing. Arthur went on to think of other things. He thought of how if this had been Nathan's case, it would all be forgiven and forgotten in a second. Nathan, who was the golden child that could do no wrong. His parents loved and admired Nathan as if God himself had blessed and sent the child. He, Arthur, on the other hand lived in the shadow of his older brother. The shadow that followed Nathan was not a golden one though. It was pitch-black like the night, and it was hard to see a path to freedom, a path where sunlight hit. Instead, Arthur followed the cold, heartless path with little to no forgiveness. A mistake, however small, wouldn't soon be forgotten. A mistake like this one though would never be forgotten.

"BOY, ARE YOU LISTENING TO WHAT I SAY?" The lawyer had nearly shouted this in front of Arthur's face. He then took a deep breath and said "Look, I understand this is hard for you, but I need the truth. Your real story and not just some bull you made up. You-"

* * *

"Swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth." The two lawyers were at the front, and had put their hands on the bible saying what they needed to for the judge. This was the third day of the trials, and his case was coming was coming to an end. Arthur had been in the same spot today that he had been in the day before, and by now he had memorized the layout. He blocked out what the people around him had been saying since he knew that there was nothing he could do to change their mind. It wasn't until the judge had called his name that he began to pay attention.

"Arthur, with the vote, you have been sentence to prison. Now I know you're a good kid and I feel sorry for you so I'm going to let you off a bit easy. You are going to be locked up in the 'county' basement so you won't have to share your space with a bunch of Negroes. There's going to be-"

* * *

_Light_, Arthur thought. It was a pleasant though after emerging from the darkness of his memories. He remembered that after he had been set free from the previous basement, his parents had locked him up in this one due to shame. The change had not really affected him though since both were prisons no matter how you looked at it. He did not have much company in this dark, damp place lit by only a single window and candlelight. The only company he had were the occasional visits from his brother, now that his mother and father had passed away, the carvings and items that surrounded him, and the people that past by his window. This was the main reason he had left the items in the tree for the children. That and the happiness they seemed to acquire every time they received a new gift left by him. He looked down and saw that he had dropped his two bars of soap, the very things that he called his dear friends. He picked them up, looked back at the window, and started to carve.


End file.
